


It Begins with You

by EmCY



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles is a Professor, Domestic, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is a Father, Erik is a Sweetheart, Erik is an Engineer, M/M, Mpreg, Protective Erik
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-10 20:09:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7859449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmCY/pseuds/EmCY
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waging wars with humans might be easier than managing a household, juggling between work and making sure you have fed your toddler. Also, throw in a heavily pregnant husband because Erik's life is obviously not exciting enough working with Stark Industries.</p><p>Or, the many adventures of the lovey dovey domestic lives of Erik (sharkface) and Charles (the nicest person on earth).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sharks

**Author's Note:**

> I stumbled into this fandom after watching X-Men: Apocalypse and proceeded to spiral down into scrolling through various wonderful tumblrs (I need to create an account) and immersing myself in more awesome writings/arts.
> 
> Also, it's 3am in the morning but I don't need sleep.

“And at the end of the day, Dory taught us no matter what happens in life it will be fine if you…?” Charles gives his daughter an expectant look.

“Just keep swimming!” Lorna beams and snuggles closer to Charles on the couch, burying her face into her father’s chest, mindful of the bump sitting comfortably between them. Running his hand through bright green hair, Charles closes the book resting on his belly and sets it aside.

“That’s right, darling,” Charles reinforces. “And wherever you go, even if you are lost, papa and I will always be looking for you.” It’s hard to imagine how this little heartbeat who he used to carry in his body now sits next to him, talking and sharing a book with him. “We will always love you no matter where you are,” he plants a light kiss at the top of those green locks.

“Love you too, daddy!” Lorna takes advantage of the empty space now that the book is out of the way and melts herself closer to Charles. Green eyes take a quick glance at the hallway leading to the bathroom before she plastered herself into her father’s arms.

“Again?” small hand reaches out across Charles trying to reach for the storybook on his side.

Charles smiles knowingly, looking at his daughter crawling over him to reach for the book she has had him read for the second time after dinner today. It doesn’t take a telepath to know what his almost-three-year-old daughter is planning. Lorna used to have no problem with bath time. She loves it when Erik brings her to the pool, waddles around with no tears and tantrums at all (she even giggled madly when Erik hummed the sound effects from Jaws and tried to pull her legs in the pool; Raven nearly had a heart attack).

“We’ll read this again after your bath, alright?” Charles tries. He knows she is stalling the inevitable but he rather if they could do this without much tears tonight. His back aches when he remembers kneeling next to a sobbing child, trying to comfort her and bathing her at the same time with an additional weight squished against the bathtub last night.

Lorna’s face scrunches up at the mention of the word ‘bath’.

“No.”

“No?” Charles tries to prompt his daughter. “Do you want to tell daddy why?”

“No.” Lorna’s answer is prompt and simple.

After dealing with long and complicated answers from his students in the university all the time, Lorna’s straightforward response is the toughest to comprehend and grade. Charles sighs; he knows where this is going if yesterday’s ‘bath time tragedy’, as Erik so nicely dubbed it, is any reference. He is a university professor who could debate about genetics and convince others to preserve mutant rights but he can’t get his toddler to take a bath without tears and screams.

“You don’t have to be afraid of the water, love,” he soothes and runs his hand down on her back, picking up the projected fear. “I’ll hold you tightly and I won’t let go.”

Lorna, his water-seal of a baby who paddles fearlessly in the pool, wells up and shakes her head as Charles gathers her up in his chest. “No, don’t want,” her voice breaks and tears start to roll down her face.

“Daddy, I don’t want,” she starts to cry and buries her face deeper into Charles’ shoulder.

His heart shatters as he positions his firstborn in his lap, shifting her weight from his protruding belly. He skimmed through her memories when she starts to reject her usual bath time two days ago. Raven used to chastise him about reading other’s memories but she has come to admit that telepathy is surprisingly very useful in parenting when your child is a toddler who can’t form complete sentences to express herself and is crying the house down.

“Oh, my love,” he hushes her tears before it turns into a full-blown meltdown like what happened yesterday.

“No no no no no,” Lorna continues to protest, hiccupping lightly and looking directly into her father’s blue eyes, pleading. She nestles closer to her father, unspeakable fear leaking out to her father.

Charles cradles her and pats a comforting hand down her back, easing her hiccups. Yes, he read Lorna’s memories that lead to her sudden hydrophobic display. Apparently she slipped in the inflatable pool at the playschool and took a few gulps of water before panicked teachers plucked her upright. Miss Pryde, the principle, did text him about his daughter’s little incident a few days ago but that brief _‘Lorna slipped during water play today, no injuries’_ text did not warn him that his daughter will be terrified of water and rejecting bath time for the next two nights.

He knows the reason behind her fear but he can’t reason with his toddler; not when she says ‘no’ to everything he has to say. Charles feels utterly helpless as he tries to calm Lorna and how he wishes-

_Honestly, Charles, people would think we’re torturing our daughter._

_Hello, love._ A familiar mind nudges around his and Charles plants a chaste kiss mentally. _If you could be a dear and come save us both-_

_I’m here._ Erik’s key turns in the lock before stepping into the den, leaving his coat and everything else on the table before walking into the living room. Charles sits on the couch comforting Lorna while she hiccups away the last of her tears. _For now_. Blue eyes look gratefully at Erik and soften at the sight of his husband. _These tears are just the beginning, Erik._

“Hello, liebling. Come to papa.” Lorna reaches for Erik immediately when she hears him. Strong hands quickly pluck her up from Charles when he scans his pregnant husband for any discomfort.

_She has been sitting on you all this while, Charles?_ Erik frowns. Surely, having a 30-pound wiggling toddler pressing on your belly is going to be more than just endearing.

Charles runs one hand over his bump before easing up from the couch. _Not long. She just wanted me to comfort her. We were reading before you came back._

“Welcome home, darling.” Charles pressed his lips to Erik’s.

“Papa, no bath,” Lorna interrupts them; teary eyes plead with Erik’s eyes, those similar shade of green.

Erik drops a kiss on Lorna’s forehead, tasting the beads of sweat forming there when she cries softly in his arms. Swaying gently, Erik holds their daughter securely and rubs soothing circles on her back. Lorna buries herself deeper into Erik’s chest and starts to suck her thumb.

“Why don’t daddy make you some chocolate milk,” Charles tries carefully; it must have worked because Lorna looks up from Erik’s chest at him. “And you can have the bottle in bed after your bath?” he has reduced himself to bribing his toddler to take a bath and he is not the slightest bit ashamed about it.

“No,” Lorna pouts, stopped tears gather at her green eyes again. “No bath,” she hides her face into Erik’s chest again and Erik feels warm moisture seeping from his front.

“It’s alright, darling,” Charles soothes. _Well, I have tried reasoning and bargaining but it’s not working very well, love._

_You could always-_

_No. I’m not wiping our daughter’s memories._ Charles shoots an annoying glare at Erik. He knows his husband is only teasing but this situation is slowly spiraling into real concern if it persists. They need to help Lorna deal with her fears and not take the easy way out. She is afraid of the water now but there will be more things to fear in the future and they can’t wipe all her unpleasant memories forever.

“Then what do you want to do, liebling?” Erik holds Lorna’s small hand in his, dropping a kiss on her knuckles and resting it on his chest, effectively stopping his daughter from sucking her thumb.

It takes a few more seconds, longer than usual before Lorna replies. “Read fishy book,” she says softly, looking up at Erik again, “Please?” small voice tests. Erik smiles at that and looks at Charles. Even in the midst of temper tantrums, Charles has taught Lorna well to always have manners, especially when she is asking for something.

_I read her that book twice just now, Erik._ Charles sighs inaudibly, they could just read her the book again and wipe her down instead if she so refuses to take a bath. His heart breaks every time he has to bathe her, holding her arms down and wiping her tears away as she sobs her lungs out.

“You love that fish, hmm?” Erik hums, pushing green hair away from Lorna’s eyes. Her hair plasters on her forehead with sweat but she still smells like warm milk and soft comforters.

“Yes, love fish,” Charles detects a change in her mood as she replies Erik. He wipes stray tears away from her eyes and rests his palm on her back. Her tears have dried up now and hiccups are slowly fading away, emotion much stable with Erik gently swaying her in his arms. The change in topic is really helping to calm their distress toddler.

_I have a plan, Charles._ Erik steals a quick glance at his husband.

“Do you want to be a fish when you grow up?” Erik asks.

“Yes!” Lorna beams, “Lorna be Dory!” she rewards Erik with one of her bright smiles. Eyes are still red and puffy from crying but her lips curls up at her father’s question.  Erik returns the smile; his plan is working.

_As lovely as this is, my love, we are not teaching our daughter that people grow up to become a fish. This sort of genetic-_

_Hush, darling. I told you I have a plan._

“Yes, you will be the bravest and smartest fish when you grow up,” Erik encourages. “But fish stays in the water,” he doesn’t miss his daughter flinching slightly at the word. “And fish plays in the water too.”

Charles smiles at that, understanding where Erik is going with this. Sometimes he wonders if one really does need telepathy when you are in sync with your husband and can see his eyes twinkling when he schemes.

“You don’t have to take a bath if you don’t want to, darling,” Charles plays along. “You can just sit and play with your fish friends, alright?” he offers and plants a kiss on Lorna’s cheek.

“And papa will make you chocolate milk after that,” Erik continues. “You need to drink and grow up to be a big fish, yes?”

They can see Lorna considering the offer, her eyebrows furrow. “No bath?” she asks carefully.

“Yes. You don’t have to take a bath, just sit and play with your fish friends, alright?” Erik reassures; nuzzling Lorna earns him a crisp giggle when his stubble brushes her cheeks.

“Okay!” Lorna concedes; giggles slowly escalating into laughter when Erik continues his stubble-attack.

_I’ll bathe her. Go lie down and rest your back, Charles._

_Thank you, Erik._ Charles drops a kiss on his cheek before Erik walks away to the bathroom with Lorna in his arms. “Let’s go play with your fish friends,” Charles hears Erik says animatedly before they round the corner.

Raven once had hesitations about Erik being a father: _he smiles like a shark; like he wants to eat Kurt when he bounces him in his arms._ Charles smiles at that thought. She now has different perception on his husband’s ability in handling children. That guy is basically a baby whisperer; he talks softly to children and coaxes them into his bidding, like he is the telepath instead of Charles. When they were first expecting Lorna, Charles has to admit that he freaked out more than Erik did; constantly worrying that he would mess up their child and doubting his own ability in caring for their newborn baby. Erik calms him by accounting those emotions to the drastic hormonal changes he was experiencing but he knows the truth: Erik is a good father.

He traces Erik and Lorna’s minds into the bathroom, sensing no sudden spike of projected fear (also, there’s no screaming and crying from said toddler), Charles turns and walks into the kitchen. His back throbs silently when he walks so he runs a hand over his back, trying to soothe the knots forming there.

_No trouble?_ He nudges silently at Erik.

_All clear. Go sit down and rest, Charles._

Charles takes one of Lorna’s feeding bottles and fills it up with warm water. After months of intensive practices involving waking-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-trying-to-make-a-bottle, Charles is now equipped with the ability to prepare milk for Lorna with his eyes closed. Erik usually takes up this task because he always wakes up at Lorna’s first cry while Charles struggles to coordinate himself after being jolt to wake. But during those rare days when Erik’s employer, Tony Stark decides to revamp the whole design of a certain project (Erik passes out in the workshop) or drags Erik along to his ‘charity’ events (Erik only returns in the morning; his foul mood has nothing to do with the alcohol he consumed), Charles will be the one preparing Lorna’s night feeds.

And let it be said that despite growing up with all the privilege he has, Charles finds delight in caring for their own daughter by themselves instead of a maid. Sleepless nights, yes; but to cradle that warm bundle in his arms and feeds her himself is one of the greatest things he has ever done.

Yet, he has to admit, these past few months were great for both of them, having to sleep continuously for hours without waking up. But now that Lorna is finally old enough to sleep through the night, they are going to repeat this all over again with baby number 2 here. We can always sleep in when they are eighteen, Charles muses as he caress his baby bump.

With the prepared bottle in one hand and Lorna’s Finding Dory storybook in the other, Charles walks towards the nursery.

“Dory is a small fish, liebling,” Charles hears Erik speaks softly to their daughter; the sound of water splashing in the tub reaching his ears.

“Lorna small,” Lorna counters.

“Yes, you’re still small but you can be a baby shark,” Charles leans on the opened bathroom door leading into the nursery, one hand resting on his belly as he watches the scene in front of him silently.

Erik kneels next to the bathtub with his sleeves rolled up. “And when you grow up, you’ll be a big shark,” Erik says.

“Baby shark…” Lorna chews on the thought, brows knitting together when she thinks. Erik always says Lorna thinks like Charles: the frown on their forehead so similar they don’t need to run a test to know she is his daughter.

“Baby shark, like this?” Charles watches as Lorna reaches for a rubber shark toy floating in the tub, holding it in front of Erik. He could see ducks, frogs, dolphins and fish floating in the tub innocently.

“Yes, like this,” Erik smiles. “A baby shark with a spiky shark fin,” he finishes as he shapes Lorna’s wet green hair into the shape of a fin on her head. Erik lets his hands drop once he finishes sculpting the shark fin and all Charles could feel is the warmth and love projected by him.

“Papa big shark!” Lorna announces and launches both her small hands onto Erik’s face.

Laughter escapes Erik’s lips as he replies, “Yes and papa shark loves you, liebling.”

Charles hopes he has his camera with him to preserve this moment forever. Their first child is growing into this small person with such incredible power that could draw affection and warmth out of the both of them effortlessly.

_I’m showing this memory to Raven when we have lunch tomorrow. She has finally found someone who agrees with her that you indeed do look like a shark, my love._

“Alright, time for baby shark to drink milk and sleep,” Erik says and gently picks Lorna up from the tub.

_Well, aren’t you in a lot of trouble then? You have big shark and baby shark swimming beside you, Charles._

“Daddy!” Lorna greets him as Erik pats her dry with the towel before rubbing lotion all over her.

“Hello, my lovely sharks. Does baby shark want her chocolate milk?” Charles asks his daughter, holding out the bottle in front of her.

_Don’t worry about me, I have watched enough Discovery Channel about them and they are lovely. I love my sharks; especially the big ones._ Charles smiles at Erik.

“Yes, baby shark wants,” Lorna reaches for the bottle once Erik dresses her up in a shirt with a shark saying ‘feed me’.

_How apt, Erik._

_I have good fashion sense, Charles._

“Alright, here we go,” Erik picks her up and sits down on the rocking chair with her, picking up the storybook Charles brought with him. He settles Lorna in one of his arms and opens the book with the other, positioning the book in front of his daughter. Charles watches as Lorna nestles sweetly against Erik while drinking her bottle, feeling safe and content.

“Papa will read this story with you because daddy has to sleep now. Say good night, Lorna?” Erik prompts his daughter before beginning the story.

Lorna pulls her head up from Erik’s shoulder, “good night daddy, love you.”

“I love you too,” Charles lands a kiss on her crown. “Good night and sweet dreams, darling.”

_Go and lie down, Charles. I can feel your back twitching from all the standing and walking around._

Apparently, his husband is now a telepath. _Yes yes, dear husband._

It takes a good twenty minutes before Erik emerges from the nursery, holding onto the finished bottle in one hand and padding into the living room. Charles sits on the couch with his reading glasses on, typing in his laptop with papers scattered on the coffee table. Erik washes the bottle in the sink before walking into the living room again, eyeing Charles with a light frown.

“Charles, are you using our unborn child as a desk again?”

“Hmm?” Charles hums absently before looking up from the laptop resting on his belly. “Oh, well, the height is just nice right now. It’ll grow bigger later and probably wouldn’t be too-”

Erik silences him with his lips; him bending down gives him a better angle, tilting Charles’ head back and holds him there while his tongue explores his mouth. They take their time with the kiss, reveling in the silence and each other’s presence after a long day at work. Erik snakes a hand behind Charles’ back, pressing down and massaging the knots formed there.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, big shark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this beautiful artwork I found on tumblr (note to self: create tumblr account) by this insanely talented Cakeis which could be found here:  
> http://cakeis.tumblr.com/post/80767446230/line-o


	2. Colours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Charles finds out he is expecting his first child with Erik. And yes, no peeing on the stick is invovled.

Let no one say that university professors have it easy because they do not have to teach at all during the entire summer vacation. No lectures to prepare and assignments to grade; that should cover the job scope, right?

“No, I’m not hanging out at the beach or heading to the Alps this summer,” Charles smiles to his class. He hasn’t been feeling too good lately and he still needs to be in his office, catching up with his paperwork, dealing with the faculty and perhaps squeeze in some time for writing. Picking up thoughts from the crowd in front of him, he knows that his students are more interested in his mobster-looking husband than the professor’s pastimes.

A round of ‘why’ and ‘where are you two going’ echoes around the lecture hall.  Charles straightens his stance on the rostrum and scans through his students, some of them eager to bolt at any moment now into summer’s embrace but curiosity sparks in their minds, keeping them in their seats to catch the potential gossip.

“I will be spending the holidays grading your final exams and,” he smirks deviously, entertaining their questions, “hopefully I won’t have to see any of you retaking this class in the next semester.” Now he sees some of the excited faces falter slightly while a couple of the students squirm.

“Until you receive your final grades, however, ladies and gentlemen,” he does not intend to scare them; he knows they have all worked hard and that none of his students from this batch is going to fail his class. “Keep yourselves safe and enjoy your well-deserved holidays. You’re dismissed.”

Most of his students chanted a chorus of ‘thank yous’ in Charles’ direction and headed straight to the doors while Charles sips the warm tea in his mug. He packs his things slowly, watches the last of his class exits the hall before he lets himself out, and hopes he doesn’t pass out halfway at the corridor.

Charles makes his way back to his office uneventfully. He sets his notes on his desk and all but drops into his chair, feeling this morning’s light-headedness returning in full swing. It isn’t him overtaxing himself with his telepathy; no, that would be a sensation he is familiar with and it is nothing like the one he is experiencing now. He squeezes his eyes close as another wave hits and breathes through the dizziness. His face is now pale white.

Amidst the awfulness he is feeling, he senses a familiar mind coming up to him.

“Charles, ready to go?” the door bursts opens. Moira does not knock; she knows he could sense her before she is even near it.

“Moira, I-“ his eyes are still closed.

“Geez, Charles, are you okay?” she drops the volume of her speech as she rounds the desk and puts a hand on his shoulder, steadying him and preventing him from standing up. “You’re pale like a ghost.”

Charles sighs and cracks his eyes open slowly to meet one of his closest friends in the faculty, fellow geneticist Dr. Moira MacTaggert. The worst of the dizziness has past, replacing it with a dull throbbing near his temple. It isn’t better, but more bearable. At least he could walk a straight line without leaning onto something or someone for support.

“I’m fine but we will have to reschedule our dinner appointment, my friend.” Charles smiles ruefully.

“Headache? Did you forget to eat again, Charles?” Moira chides, eyebrows furrow in worry. Charles has been infamous to skip meals whenever he is engrossed in his work since their time in Oxford.

Charles murmurs something that sounds like “No, yes, maybe”.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home,” Moira brings her hands to support him as he stands. “And don’t worry about dinner; I can always pop by your place and eat mac and cheese with you on the couch.”

Charles smiles at the suggestion involving his favorite comfort food; but instead of warming him up from the inside like it always does, the sheer mention of food makes his stomach churn, threatening to expel its content.

They keep their silence during their walk to Moira’s car and she tries to clear her mind lest it projects to the telepath and make his headache worse than it is now. She holds him tight on an arm, offering support as they near her car.

“I don’t think I’m up for food,” he says as she helps him into her car. “Don’t worry, I’m just too tired. I think I’ll feel better if I go back and sleep.”

Moira climbs in from the driver’s side when Charles buckles himself in. She catches his face in a mixture of pale white and green, like he is going to throw up in her car any moment now. But she never backs up from what she knows is good for him.

“Uh-uh, nope. I’m getting you some soup on our way to your place and you’re going to eat that before you tuck yourself into bed tonight,” she glances at Charles’ increasingly pale face. The color changes in just a few seconds.

_I’ll try to eat some, my friend. No guarantee on how much of it will end up in me._

Charles sighs. He can’t win against Moira.

_Try not. Do, or do not._

Moira gives him a warm smile.

 

*

 

When he is back at home and done with half of his soup, Charles declares that this is his best attempt he could do at the moment; Jedi or not. He figures it is better to keep half the brown soup in his stomach now than to finish it all ambitiously and throwing it all up later. Charles refrigerates his leftover soup before he heads to the the bathroom for a long bath.

Soaking in the warm water has returned some colors to his cheek, Charles thinks. His complexion is probably better with a little food in his body and a soak to relax his tired muscles. He feels healthier and better already when he drains the tub and wraps himself in a robe.

 _I probably shouldn’t jinx it._ Charles thinks as he turns to head to the bedroom and another round of dizziness assaults him suddenly. He tries to breathe through it but black creeps into his vision and blinds him momentarily, sending him onto the tiled bathroom floor rapidly. His breath comes in quicker as hands reach forward blindly trying to catch the edge of the tub he knows is right in front of him but his head finds the tub before his hands and-

And then a dull ‘thud’ echoes in the bathroom.

 

*

 

Erik knows something is amiss when he turns the key in the lock and the familiar mind fails to greet him. Even deeply asleep, Charles would pick up his presence and slides into his mind, curling against Erik subconsciously.

“Charles?” Erik scans their home; lights are on so Charles is definitely at home. He pushes their bedroom door open and heads to the bathroom after setting his things down.

_Charles?_

Instead of a strong an immediate response as always, Erik feels the projected pain and confusion before he enters the bathroom and sees his husband passed out on the floor.

“Charles!” Erik kneels next to Charles immediately, tilting his husband’s head to have a better look at the wound on his forehead. The blood stains on the tile starts to dry up at the edges, stark red against pure white.

“Charles? Charles, can you hear me, love?” Erik repeats, lightly tapping his husband’s face, one hand still strong and half-cradling him in his arms. He sees blue eyes fluttering to open with a groan.

Erik reaches for a washcloth and presses it gently but firmly on the wound, trying not to wince at the blue-black bruise which is beginning to form around Charles’ left eye.

“Nggghh…” Erik’s administration earns him another response from the man in his arms as blue eyes blink wearily into recognition. “Erik…” Charles mumbles, “Erik, what-I…” He winces when Erik presses harder with the washcloth. “Hurts,” he says, reaching out to Erik’s wrist, trying to pull that hand away which is hurting him.

“Shh, don’t move,” Erik reassures. “I’m stopping the bleed. What happened, love?”

“I…uh… I-“ Charles starts and finishes, trying to sequence the events that lead to him bleeding on his bathroom’s floor.

“I fell and uh…” he swallows.

“I uh- I think, I think I knocked my head on the bathtub,” he manages as he tries to look at Erik. His left eye feels swollen and is getting difficult to see through it clearly.

Erik’s heart stutters for a moment when he sees Charles struggling in his narration just now, and worries about the extent of his injury. His eyes track the blood stains and find some of them on the edge of the tub; no doubt Charles has smacked himself face first when he lost his balance. Blood has slowed down to a trickle but he continues to apply pressure. “Were you feeling dizzy again?”

“Hmm?” Charles squirms in his arms, trying to escape the washcloth that keeps hurting him. “No? Yes… I’m sorry,” blue eyes look into green ones guiltily; Charles knows he couldn’t lie to Erik. “I was going to head to bed.”

_I’m really sorry, Erik. I must’ve scared you._

_I love you, Charles; stop apologizing._ Erik smiles and plants a kiss on top the mop of brown curls. Some of the blood starts to dry up and tangles up Charles’ hair but the wound on his forehead still has not stop bleeding completely. It looks like a deeper cut than he imagines.

“Come on, we’re going to the hospital. I think you need stiches, Charles.” Erik takes one of Charles’ hands to replace his own on the washcloth and proceeds to scoop the latter up before he could protest.

“I don’t need stiches, Erik.” Charles whines softly. “I don’t think I cracked my skull or anything; I just need to lie down and sleep,” he objects but tucks himself closer to Erik, burying his nose into the scent of machinery and metal.

“Your academic qualification is astounding but I don’t think there’s a medical degree among them, Charles,” Erik smiles at the man in his arms, snuggling closer despite all the objections.

“Humor me, would you? Just to be safe, love.” He takes long strides to his car, switching off lights and locking doors behind them with a flick of his wrist. Erik checks that he has both their wallets and climbs into the backseat of his car with Charles in his arms, maneuvering the car towards the hospital’s emergency department in top speed with his power.

 

*

 

They spend the next two hours getting five stitches to the forehead wound, running blood work (“He has been feeling faint since two or three days ago, doctor.”) answering questions (“Did your husband hit you, Mr. Xavier? You can be honest; there’s nothing to be afraid of”) which all but make Erik scowls more than he had for the past year. Charles lies down in the recovery section of the emergency department, an IV drip feeding him a second pack of fluids in one arm, and the other in Erik’s tight grip sitting next to the cot, waiting for the results of his blood from the lab.

“Erik, I mean it, go back and get some sleep. I’ll be fine here,” Charles rubs circles on the back of his husband’s hand with his husband. He knows the engineer must be exhausted with the upcoming Stark Expo; he hasn’t have more than a couple hours of sleep for the past month before he changes and heads back to work.

“I promise I’ll stay put and not smack my face into the nearest surface,” Charles jokes. He senses Erik’s fear and worry, tired green eyes looking at him lovingly. His husband replies by bringing their lips together softly. Charles looks paler than the sheets under him.

“Well, I don’t mind if you’re going to smack your face into mine every time you see me, love,” Erik knows the telepath is trying to cheer him up and lighten the situation. That is supposed to be Erik’s role; not the responsibility of someone whose fair skin is marred with a black eye and stitches.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Xavier?” a gruff and exhausted voice interrupts them as a big figure looms over the cot. Charles scans the newcomer’s mind; he is not from the emergency department.

“I’m feeling better, thank you Doctor… James Howlett?” Charles skims through surface thoughts and replies politely while Erik eyes the new doctor skeptically; surely, Charles is not that badly injured to need the opinion of a second doctor, yes?

“Drop the ‘doctor’ thing; Logan will do,” he drawls. “Well, given your condition, I was called to come and talk to you before they let you home,” Dr. Howlett begins brusquely. “First, I gotta ask you to stop face-planting yourself when you’re pregnant, bub.” Logan takes a quick look on the results from the lab and continues, “Your blood work is shit; low blood glucose level and stuff, that’s why you’re feeling faint all the time and decides to kiss your bathtub…” he trails when he looks up, impressive brows furrow together as he meets surprised blue and green eyes, staring intently at him.

“I beg your pardon, doctor,” Charles swallows. “I’m- I’m what?”

“Pregnant.” Maybe this kid really did bump his head and is amnesiac now, Logan thinks. “You’re pregnant, bub.” He frowns looking at the surprised faces, “And I hope it’s this shark face’s kid you’re carrying or you two will have to sort this thing out; I don’t do counseling.”

The telepath knows that the doctor is speaking the truth, and he does not question his honesty but he can’t help but sucks in a sudden breath, heart speeding up in surprise. Erik senses the wave of emotion from Charles and tightens his grip on the latter’s hand, unsure if he is supporting Charles or anchoring himself as he drowns in his own panic and happiness and surprise all at once.

“Erik,” tears well up in bright blue eyes. “Erik, I’m pregnant, love.” Charles knows he must be projecting now, the tide of sudden happiness flooding him and he knows his control must be slipping. “I can carry a child; we can have a child together; we _are_ having a child together, Erik.” The sudden revelation dawns on him as tears roll down. He could care less as he beams and looks at Erik.

They have not really sit down and talk about children but Charles knows the smile on Erik’s face when he rocks Raven’s son to sleep; he knows how much Erik wants to be a father, he knows how Erik _would_ be a good father. Almost a year into their marriage and they are always both too busy with their career to really talk about having children. Hell, Charles doesn’t even know that he could get _pregnant_ ; but they are expecting a child now.

“We are, love. We are having a child; _our_ child,” Erik smiles as he wipes the tears away from Charles’ face. His husband’s face tinted slightly with a shade of red as tears continue to roll down. He knows he must be having that too-many-teeth smile plastered on his face as he plants a chaste kiss on Charles’ lips, ignoring Logan who is staring at them like a couple of emotional teenagers.

“Wait, you don’t know you’re pregnant, bub?” Logan looks confusedly at their reaction. “You do know you can get pregnant when you have unprotected sex, right? It’s your secondary mutation,” he explains.

Charles straightens himself and look at the doctor standing on his right, he wipes tears away from his eyes, avoiding the swollen left. “No, I was unaware that I could get pregnant,” he admits. “I didn’t really submit myself to a genetic mapping because I thought I knew my mutation well.” Moira would laugh at him for the next few years as a geneticist.

Almost everyone maps their genes since birth nowadays (including Erik; he knows he can’t get pregnant). With genetic engineering gaining popularity among the general population, everyone walking on the streets is technically a mutant now. Parents enthusiastically choose to genetically engineer their children to have blue eyes or blonde hair; better immune systems and eradicating hereditary diseases, and these are only some of the most common modifications parents make for their children.

“No need to feel overwhelmed or surprise I’d say,” Logan explains. “Some of my patients’ mutation allows them to lay eggs and hatch them at home,” male pregnancy is hardly the most bizarre case he has ever seen. “Makes my life so much more complicated, thank you very much,” he groans.

Erik and Charles smiles at the doctor’s attempt of comforting them through their initial panic; he might look all grumpy and angry but they could see that he is trying to help them.

“Listen, since this is your first time finding out, I’ll bring in the ultrasound and you can meet your bub for the first time, okay?” Logan offers and moves to get the equipment ready before he could hear a reply from the expecting parents.

Erik takes the opportunity and space to press another kiss to Charles’ lips. “I can’t believe this, Charles,” he knows he is going to have smile lines if he continues to grin like a mad man in love. “You’re amazing, _schatz_ ,” but his heart swells and beats with so much warmth he doesn’t know how to comprehend this emotion he is feeling.

“We’re going to have a child.” Charles says again; he could repeat this over and over again just to see Erik’s green eyes shining brightly. Realization downs on him that they are going to be parents soon. There will be a child coming to this world, carrying their genetic information; a combination of the two of them.

Logan comes back to them after a while, setting up the ultrasound next to the cot. Charles holds his breath, Erik gripping both his hands as they look at the screen in front of them. They wait as blobs of grey swim in the display, staring intently at the image as Logan moves the probe around Charles’ abdomen.

“Here, that’s the kid’s head,” Logan points to the display without looking at them. “Hands...” he pauses as he searches, “and legs,” the doctor finishes and waits for the future parents to absorb it all. Logan has seen it all: some shriek in delight while some chooses to start arguing with one another, and then, there are some couples who will just stare at each other silently. He has been an obstetrician long enough to see enough happy faces but to actually _feel_ the warmth and adoration for an unborn child projected so vividly is a first for him.

“Is that the…?” Charles asks; eyes wide as saucers as Erik leans closer to the source of the sound.

“Yup, that’s your kid’s heartbeat.” Logan clarifies. “Strong, stable and the rate is good as well.”

Erik breathes a silent “oh” as he continues to marvel at the sound of the rapid ‘lup-dup’ echoing at 3 a.m. in the morning. It is one of the most beautiful sounds he has ever heard in his life. He still finds it hard that Charles is carrying his child, _their_ child and that tiny blob is their baby, already growing strong with head and limbs inside this wonderful husband of his.

“I bet you guys have so much sex you can’t even pinpoint the exact one you had that conceived this kid here so I’m just gonna go ahead and tell you how far along you are now,” Logan is starting to want to puke from all the starry eyes he is seeing from the two of them now.

“Judging at the length and weight, I’d say you’re about 10 weeks along. Your kid looks healthy enough so I’m not worried but I’m still gonna be seeing you again in two weeks.” Logan huffs as he updates the patient’s notes.

“Is something wrong with Charles?” Erik laces his question with concern. He remembers when he used to drive Raven to her antenatal check-ups and it’s only once a month at the beginning of her pregnancy. There isn’t much to see when your child is as big as a grape, she says.

“Well, daddy-o, like I said, your husband’s blood is shit now and he isn’t gaining enough weight like he is supposed to,” Logan explains without looking up from his notes. “Do you feel nauseous at all? No appetite?” he looks at Charles.

“A little but I do frequently feel lightheaded,” Charles recalls.

“That’s what you get when your blood pressure is in the drain, being iron deficient, and not eating enough for your kid and yourself.” Logan chides and glances through his patient’s file again. “You’re a professor? Great! I’ll send you a bunch of stuff you can read about this and save us all the time on consultation. Ask me if you have any questions after you finish your reading assignment.”

Charles smiles at the suggestion of reading through materials and getting more information of what he should be expecting now. He knows Erik will probably dash to the nearest bookstore and grab the best-selling baby book they could recommend.

“Here’s a picture of your bub so you can share it with everyone and get them ready to put some money away for gifts.”  Logan says as he moves to retrieve a printed paper and hands it to Charles.

“Thank you, Logan.” Charles replies genuinely, catching the doctor off-guard. “Truly, thank you very much.” He looks at the ultrasound of his unborn child again; still so tiny but sings to his heart, both _their_ hearts.

He is used to grumpy patients, not people who look at him all blue-eyed and appreciative; even that shark-faced husband of his is throwing him a grin (which borders creepy and murderous). “You- well, you better fatten your ass up before I see you again in two weeks’ time,” he stammers slightly. “Someone will set-up the appointment for you when they come in to discharge you in a couple of minutes with a list of supplements you should start taking. Go home and get some rest, bub.” He turns to leave before he hears a reply; this night isn’t so awful after all.

_Well, Dr. Howlett seems nice._

_He is all hard on the outside and soft in the inside; just like you, Erik._

Charles nuzzles Erik’s palm on his face, feeling contented and comfortable despite knowing the fact that his face is probably a mess of blue-black with a red cut slightly above his left brow.

“You’re beautiful, Charles.” Erik seems to capture his thoughts; or maybe he projected them.

“Even if I’m a mixture of blue, black and red?” Charles murmurs, feeling slightly drowsy with Erik plastered warmly at his side, rubbing comforting circles up his arm. They still have to wait for the IV drip to finish before they could head home and rest in their own bed.

“Especially when you’re half a panda with a swollen eye,” Erik smiles affectionately, something most people thought he is incapable of. He presses his lips to Charles’.

_You give color to my life, Charles; life, and purpose._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr is amazing (and addictive).


	3. Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Charles and Erik learn new things about their children, and Tony Stark is the best uncle in the world.

When you have your second child, most people tell Charles and Erik, you shall kiss your passports and traveling goodbye. From now on, parents at Lorna’s playschool ever so kindly tell Charles, it’s going to be like one of the mission impossible to bring both your children out at the same time for any period longer than going to the nearby mall without one of them demanding to be held, to go home or just plain out crying. There will be even more sleepless nights, they say. Forget about the difficulty of coaxing your toddler to sleep because your second child is going to be more of a menace than the first.

So when David was born, Charles and Erik braced themselves for the worst.

Except, David is anything but all of the above. He does not cry for attention, does not fuss and is one of the rarest babies in the world who will wake up in his cot playing with his own fingers without screaming and waking up everyone in the household to entertain him. Sleeping through television noises? Yep. Content with staring at his own crib mobiles? Very. Sleeping through the night? Naturally. In fact, David cries so little that Charles insisted to run a second hearing test just to make sure his son actually hears the sounds and noises around him.

“You are too lucky, Charles.” Raven replies in the phone. “We had to buy that clock with stars and moon and sun just to make Kurt sleep like a normal kid.”

“I know, but David is just so…” Charles searches for the word. His eyes follow Erik who has David in one hand and the other with an extremely excited Lorna. They are heading towards the center of the park with all the slides and swings but Lorna isn’t bouncing happily because of the playground; they are meeting someone today.

“Different. He is very different from Lorna.” Charles finishes as he sees the source of Lorna’s excitement approaching. Lorna tugs herself free from Erik and sprints towards her favorite uncle.

“Uncle Tony!”

Charles smiles at that loud greeting; he can hear it clearly all the way from the bench. Erik frowns as he usually does whenever Lorna lets out a happy shriek as Tony catches a laughing Lorna in a tight hug after an equally loud reply of her name, and proceeded to swing her around.

“I don’t have anything to say to that because I only have one kid and he is already driving me crazy without teleporting every 5 seconds,” Raven answers honestly. “But I gotta go now, talk to you about your perfect little angel later?” Charles hears the distinctive ‘ding’ from the oven through the phone as his sister shuffles around the kitchen.

“I have to feed my kid before the cops come,” Raven jokes. “Love you, Charles.”

“Bye. Love you too,” he smiles.

He stands from the bench and slowly makes his way to the playground after pocketing his phone. Lorna is long gone from Erik’s side, conquering the highest monkey bars available with Tony cheering behind her. Charles sees Erik crouching down to David, pointing to a couple of swings while the latter gently shakes his head at all of them.

“Hello love,” Charles drops a light kiss on Erik’s lips when he squats down as well, “what are you up to?”

David holds out his short arms and reaches for Charles instantly. “Daddy,” comes a soft voice from a boy of a year and a half old, “Daddy up?” Charles plants a kiss on top of those messy blonde locks before carrying his son all the way up in his arms. He can feel Erik projecting contentment and happiness when the latter wounds his arms around them, planting kisses on their heads.

“Do you want to go on the swing, darling?” Charles prompts as he senses David burying his head into the crook of his neck, gently snuggling him.

“No,” David replies with a brief shake of his head. “Here,” he says looking up at similar blue eyes, “here daddy.”

Erik frowns at that reply, shooting a worried look at Charles. They once thought that David is just a shy person who prefers to hang around familiar people because he doesn’t have much exposure. So they started bringing him to the playgrounds and parks more often, introducing other adults into his social circle but he never warms up to any of them. When Lorna was one, she was already hanging onto Tony Stark (her favorite uncle in the world, she declares) like a koala bear. Lorna was never a clingy baby; she bounces off like electrons from one place to the other, like a ball of energy. So when they have been consistently bringing David out and still, he shows no interests in things around him, Charles starts to go through books and articles to look for an explanation for his behavior.

“Papa and daddy will be here, schatz.” Erik interprets David’s reply as some form of fear of abandonment. “We’ll be here and we’re not going anywhere,” Erik explains as he takes David’s hand into his.

“No.” David replies and reaches for Erik this time.

_David is the first kid that I know who doesn’t like the playground, Charles._

Erik takes David from Charles and shifts him carefully in his arms as he sends the thought to Charles. With the backdrop of other happy children running and screaming happily all around them, David doesn’t look the slightest bit of joy. He snuggles closer to Erik and presses his cheeks against broad shoulders, looking at his sister who is currently sliding down from the highest point of the slide.

_I don’t sense any particular fear. He is just feeling annoyed like when his papa asks him to eat his carrots._

Erik rolls his eyes at that thought while Charles smiles sheepishly at him. This is all cute and endearing but he doesn’t want his son to grow up to be the only kid who hates the playground and fears constantly that his parents are going to abandon him at any moment.

“Why don’t we all go to the swing with you, schatz?” Erik coaxes and starts to walk towards the swings. It is a nice start, he thinks and there’s only a couple of children hanging around it now. The swing sets are generally empty from the general crowd of children when there are much more attractive rides around them. This should lessen the anxiety.

David snuggles closer without replying so Erik raises an eyebrow at Charles and takes that as a silent agreement from their toddler. They walk past a couple more children on bicycles and Charles steals a glance at Lorna and Tony who have now conquered the tree house as their own hideout, giving waging war with the other children. Charles sneaks his arm around Erik and walks silently beside him until they are a few feet away from the swings before David struggles in Erik’s arms.

“No, no.” David pushes himself away from Erik’s arms, wiggling around. “No papa,” his fidget increasingly dangerous as he fights to be let down.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Charles puts a hand behind David’s back, trying to soothe and calm him knowing Erik would hold onto any metal on their son’s body just to make sure he doesn’t fall face first onto the ground.

“Hurts,” David whimpers as tears start to pool at his eyes. “Hurts,” he repeats and covers his ears with tiny palms but he doesn’t stop squirming in Erik’s arms. He pulls away from Erik before slamming his head down against him again, as if he is unsure if he wants to pull away or snuggle closer to his father.

“What hurts, schatz?” Erik’s eyes his son alarmingly, his arm running up and down tiny limbs checking for injuries or bruises, anything that could possibly hurt his child.

Charles scans David’s thoughts frantically. His toddler’s still growing brain doesn’t form complete sentences and emotions yet but Charles feels the projected pain and confuse, and it is as real as a burning and constant throbbing of a skinned knee. He looks down at David’s pants, rolling them up to inspect both knees as the toddler continues to squirm restlessly in Erik’s arms.

“Hurts, daddy,” tears run down from his cheeks now and he stares at Charles with reddened blue eyes. “Hurts,” he tries to explain with limited vocabulary as he covers his ears and slams his head repeatedly onto Erik’s shoulder.

_What’s going on, Charles? He is going to hurt himself like this._

_I don’t know, he thinks his knee is bleeding but I’ve checked and he is not injured at all and he-_

Charles looks around wildly with increased agitation from his toddler before he abruptly stops at a girl who has fallen down from her bicycle moments ago. A woman bends down at the girl’s side, soothing her loud cry while she inspects the girl’s skinned knee. Charles picks up the similar projection and stares at his son as he puts two and two together. David is sobbing openly now, which he rarely does, as he continues to clamp his ears shut with his hands.

“Hurts, hurts, hurts,” David weeps in distress. “Hurts. Papa, hurts,” Erik doesn’t care if his son wipes snots and tears on his shirt. His heart aches as his son continues to rock and bump his head.

“Shh, darling it’s okay,” Charles quickly sends out waves of assurance and comfort, trying to soothe his son. David’s body relaxes instantly as his father relinquishes his phantom pain. Charles eyes the girl who has fallen from her bike again and sees her walking further away from them with her mother and David stops sobbing almost immediately.

_What happened, Charles?_ Erik looks at him curiously. He knows Charles, though reluctant, uses his telepathy to pacify their children sometimes when they are crying or having a melt down with emotions they cannot fully understand yet. He has never seen him outright canceling their feelings; Charles only calms them down so that they could talk it through.

Charles sighs and continues to rubs circles on David’s small back. Blue eyes shine brighter now with red rims around them as the cries slows down to gentle hiccups. David sucks his thumb and melts into Erik’s embrace now that the pain he felt is all gone.

_I’m afraid you have two telepaths in the family now, love._ Charles smiles ruefully at his husband. _He felt the sudden pain projected by the girl who fell from her bicycle. It was just too much for him to comprehend._

Green eyes widen like saucers as Erik stares at Charles unbelievably. He knows their children are statistically more likely to be born as mutants, as Charles has so helpfully told him repeatedly over the course of the pregnancy, but-

“But he is barely two years old,” _and he is only a baby!_ Erik tries to control his emotions. He knows he could put up a good mental barrier but he doesn’t want to risk accidentally projecting any fear or restlessness now that he knows he has a beginner telepath plastered at his side.

“I know,” Charles says almost regretfully, “some don’t manifest until their adulthood but there are some…” he trails, “some rare ones who manifests at birth.” _Like me; I can’t remember a time when I don’t hear voices in my head._ He adds.

Charles knows how Erik looks at mutants and their powers. He sees them as gifts and he cherishes each of them and he lights up whenever someone talks about their unique ability. Erik is always so very proud of their mutant status. It’s a gift, he says, and that we should treasure it well and use it without shame. But now, looking at their young son who could barely form complete sentences to express his feelings, struggling with the mutation and _hurting_ because of it, Charles senses Erik’s conflicting thoughts.

“Hush now, schatz. You’re safe,” Erik sways David gently in his arms, dropping kisses on tear-stained cheeks. “You’re safe, David; and we love you forever and ever and ever and ever.” Erik isn’t sure if he is trying to convince his son or himself but he needs to feel that his son is indeed safe in his arms; safe and sound in their protection.

_So, what do we do now, Charles? He is still so young. He is TOO young._

He is a proud parent, yes; Charles will not deny himself that. Telepathy is a rare and powerful mutation and he knows a gentle soul like David will surely be able to wield it with conscience.

_Now, Erik, now we help him to learn and understand, to control and to use his powers._ Charles smiles apologetically. He has passed his telepathy to David; he bestowed him this life which will be filled with more sorrow and heartaches if he were to be a seer to all truths; to learn everyone’s secrets and to never enjoy the privilege of being lied to.

“Papa,” David replies after a while. His cries has die down completely as Erik wipes the last of the tears from bright blue eyes. “Love papa,” he murmurs with a thumb between his lips and continues to rest his cheek tiredly on Erik as Charles runs a smoothing palm over the reddened little forehead. Their son is too young to bear such a burdensome ability and Charles knows that both of them, while immeasurably proud of David, are also heart-achingly worry about the future he will have and the childhood he will grow up into and-

“Papa! Daddy! What’s wrong?” Lorna sprints towards them, cutting through their reveries. She runs into Charles with a hug and a big smile, sweat plastering strands of green hair on her face.

“Hello, darling,” Charles gives his daughter the brightest smile he could muster. “Did you have fun at the tree house?” he ought to explain to Lorna about David’s mutation and what has happened, Charles reminds himself. Someday, but not today and certainly, not now. So he opts to distract his four-year-old by throwing her another question.

“Yes! Uncle Tony and I climbed the tallest tree and we killed the others!” Lorna beams, projecting happiness so loud and clear any telepath within a five mile radius would have felt it. David looks up from Erik’s shoulder and stares at his sister in awe, thumb forgotten and no longer in his mouth as he watches his sister recounting her story with gestures and actions.

“Please tell me you did not murder kids at a playground, Tony.” Erik says to his boss. This is perhaps not the right tone to talk to your employer but it’s not that Erik cares particularly. Tony Stark is his husband’s oldest friend; Erik is practically going to have his job forever even if he occasionally pisses off his boss.

“I did not wound any of them mortally,” Tony put up his hands in surrender. “We only threw leaves and sticks at them because that’s _our_ hideout, not theirs,” the billionaire explains.

“Yes! And we won and Uncle Tony is so cool!” Lorna chirps in. “Uncle Tony says guys who bully girls are… are…” green eyes crunches up momentarily as she searches for the word.

“Losers,” Tony helps.

“Losers! They are losers and we won!” Lorna shares her joy and excitement while Erik and Charles try not to sigh audibly at their daughter’s vocabulary.

Charles gives up finally and crouches down to meet his daughter’s eyes. He smiles affectionately at her, smoothing and plucking leaves and sticks in her hair. “Well, we are very proud that you stood for yourself, darling. But you must never learn to solve problems with violence, do you understand?” he tries to explain. “You might hurt the other children and that is not nice, alright?”

Lorna looks at Charles attentively, as if she is trying to absorb what her father is telling her. For a moment, Charles thought she might feel that her achievement is not commended or that she was not given enough attention by her parents. His worry dissolves naturally as Lorna all but thinks for 3 seconds before replying a loud “alright”.

“Papa! Can I go play with David?” Lorna switches her attention, grabbing her brother’s foot in Erik’s arms. “Can we go play that swing, please?” Lorna asks again, giving David’s foot a gentle tug while swinging her little brother’s arm in hers.

Erik looks at David who has a small smile plastered on his face now, his hand holding onto his sister’s as she continues to swing his gently in hers.

“I don’t know, liebling. Why don’t you ask David?” Erik replies and kneels down so Lorna is face-to-face with her brother.

“David! Let’s play on the swing! Okay?” Lorna quickly dives in to put a kiss on David’s cheek. Her hold on her brother so strong she almost pulls the toddler out of Erik’s grasp excitedly.

For a while, David does not say anything but stare at his sister. It takes Lorna repeatedly asking ‘okay?’ for the third time before David mutters a soft ‘okay’ in agreement. Green hair bobs up and down as Lorna jumps excitedly, pulling Erik and David towards the swing. Charles stands a few feet away from the swing set with Tony at his side as Erik settles David into the toddler seat, reminding Lorna to not push David too hard or too fast.

“She is something, isn’t she?” Tony comments at his side, before chugging down half a bottle of water.

Charles muses at that. If someone were to tell him that his childhood friend would grow up to be an adult who loves playing with his daughter to the extent that he would build her a stun gun (“She needs it for protection, Charl; she is too pretty!” Tony explains) and chase bullies away for her, Charles would not believe it.

“Yes, she is,” Charles agrees, looking at Erik who is standing far away enough from Lorna to give her the confidence that she is indeed pushing her brother the right way, but close enough to swipe in and save the children if anyone of them were to fall.

“There is a stark difference between them,” Charles considers. “I mean, she rushes head first into everything and is always loud with her thoughts and words and David…” he trails again, looking at his friend. “David has to feel everything so deeply but he projects and says so little.”

“Well, you can thank me. I taught her well,” Tony says as Charles chuckles at that light response. “What? Don’t laugh! I am a _really_ good influence on kids.” He knows his friend is talking entirely about another matter but he is glad that answer manages to lighten the mood a little.

“You were really _bad_ influence when we were growing up, Tony,” Charles recalls. “You taught me to steal wine from mother when we were children because you said it would be fun.”

“And it was fun!” Tony laughs.

“Indeed it was, my friend.” Charles remembers dark days in the mansion he was supposed to call home which brightened up significantly whenever Tony Stark would drop by. His friend has brought him laughter and joy through mischiefs and clever inventions which survives him through the darkest of nights and loneliest of days.

Charles smiles at the memories.

“Don’t worry too much about the kids, alright?” Tony takes another mouthful of water before continuing, “we didn’t grow up in perfect families but we turned out alright, Charles.” Tony rests an arm on his shoulder.

“Yes,” Charles smirks. Tony Stark doesn’t need to prove to the media or to anyone that he has a heart; Charles grew up with him and he knows for sure that he cares and pays attention to the people he holds dear.

“Yes, we turned out alright, Tony,” Charles finds himself somewhat assured by his friend without even telling him what troubles his mind yet; perhaps Tony is the telepath among them.

“Thank you, Tony,” Charles rests his arm Tony’s shoulder in return. “For coming today, and for everything.”

“You’re welcome,” he gives him the infamous Stark grin.

“Also, you did mention that there’s a _Stark_ difference between Lorna and David so maybe…”

“Don’t push it, Anthony.”


	4. Difficult

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Erik learns how to deal with tantrums and parenting is more difficult than feed and clean.

“Let’s set some rules,” Erik begins.

Barely ten at night on a Saturday night and both of them are already under the covers of their bed with a toddler safely tucked in the next room. Parenthood, Erik muses, has indeed changed their lifestyle completely. He scrolls through the various posts from his tablet without looking up, waiting for his husband’s delayed reply.

“Hmm?” Charles hums absentmindedly as he flips through the next page of his student’s thesis. His glasses sits lazily on his nose, a pen in his hand ready to jot down any remarks for further amendments.

“You are supposed to be able to read minds, Charles.” Erik teases, looping an arm around his husband’s shoulder before pulling the smaller man closer.

Charles chuckles as he adjusts his new position, shifting slightly to rest his head on that comfortable spot between Erik’s chest and shoulders. “Well, sorry but I’m a little busy over here trying to work and read my students’ papers and earn money to feed the family.” He stretches and plants a light kiss on Erik’s chin before settling comfortably in his husband’s arms again, going back to his papers.

“Is it now?” Erik returns the kiss on a mob of messy brown hair. Charles smells like Lorna’s fruity shampoo. “Thank you for buying us bread and butter while I sit around the house doing nothing,” he smiles easily. The days since he met Charles had left wrinkles at his eyes and smile lines on his face.

Charles sends a soft mental nudge at his direction as he snuggles closer to Erik.

“I’m reading this thing about 10 rules to raise a genius Jewish kid,” Erik goes back to the screen on his free hand again once the person in his arms wriggle into position. “Maybe we should try this out with Lorna or maybe…” he hesitates; after all, Charles is the professional educator between the two of them. “Maybe you think this is foolish?” he ends apprehensively, looking at the person who has given him his first child.

All half-hearted jokes die down as Charles senses the waves of self-doubt from Erik. “Oh, Erik, my love,” he puts down his pen and papers, returning those worried gaze of greens. “You do not need to be a university lecturer to know what is best for your daughter,” Charles reassures.

“You are the best father Lorna can ever ask for,” the telepath says. “And very soon, the best father for this little one over here too.” Charles reaches for Erik’s palm and rests it on his swollen belly.

Erik smiles and draws slow circles across his husband’s abdomen. A second child. God, how blessed is he to be able to have a little family of his own? Things were chaotic and terrifying when they first found out that they were expecting Lorna. The news of a second pregnancy was processed better than the first one but he still can’t help but to feel terrified. He is going to be responsible for another life soon. A new life and soul, a combination of both his and Charles’ DNA, a little person that he can help shape and mold.

“I know,” the tablet in his hand abandoned as he continues to rest his palm on their unborn child, feeling the occasional kicks inside. “I just…” he remembers the event earlier in the afternoon today. “I don’t want to mess this up, Charles.”

Charles smiles at his husband, picking up those reminiscing thoughts. Erik has always look so sure; so confident in his actions and words that sometimes it seems nothing would be able to dismantle him. Looks like the words of a three-year-old have more impact than he thought they would on this all-hardcore-and-cold-steel husband of his.

_“Don’t’ want papa! I hate papa!”_

Those words echo in Erik’s mind repeatedly. Lorna is usually very well-behaved. She may be a ball of energy, always bouncing around and ready to launch herself to whichever direction but everyone who has ever interacted with her will praise her impeccable manners of saying ‘thank-you’ and ‘please’ all the time. Charles has taught her well but even the most obedient child will bound to have a rebellious streak or two.

And so happens, that day is today.

Saturdays are usually spent outdoors. Both of them will try their best to bring Lorna out to parks or lakes to make up for their usual workday routines which have her all cooped up indoors all day long. Charles couldn’t join the group because he has to help his postgraduate student with the finalization of his thesis but Erik doesn’t have much to worry. Two young kids among Raven, Azazel and himself. The adults outnumber the children. What’s the worst that could happen?

Things are going great until they are packing up the lunchboxes Raven prepared for them. Kurt teleports around their picnic spot, picking up loose toys and a stray ball or two when Raven tells him it’s time to go home. Lorna’s laughter echoes through the park as she continues to run around with one of the balls in her hand, inviting her cousin Kurt to play catch.

“Come on, Lorna. We gotta pack up and go home now,” Kurt pleads. His dad is a really laid back and ‘chill’ kind of guy, but mom? He doesn’t want to get in trouble with his mom ever and said mom is currently giving him ‘the look’.

“Come catch!” Lorna says as she raises the ball high in her hand.

Playing catch with a teleporter means the ball is always caught with a spark and a ‘poof’. Kurt loves playing with his green-haired cousin. A little ball-catching trick with his teleportation or his tail always earns him a warm hug and the brightest laughter from Lorna. She adores him.

“No more catching, we gotta go home now. The sun’s setting.” Kurt teleports to where Lorna is and holds out his hand; she is holding the last ball.

“No!” Lorna replies defiantly, holding the ball further away from Kurt. “Kurt play catch ball,” she repeats as she readies to throw the ball again.

“Let’s play catch again next time, okay?” Kurt bargains. “We really gotta go now before mom kills us both.”

“No! Don’t wanna go home!” Lorna raises her voice as she holds the ball behind her back, refusing to give it in to the extended hand.

“Just give me the ball already, Lorna!”

“Noooo!!”

Kurt tries to wrestle the ball out of the grasp of a three-year-old girl and finds her grip surprisingly strong. Things do not go any better when Lorna holds onto the ball even harder and took two steps away from her cousin. Their short struggle on the fight for the ball ends abruptly as both kids took a breather with a little distance between them.

“I hate Kurt!” Lorna shouts as she throws the ball hard at Kurt’s face.

The little teleporter definitely did not see that coming. The ball, propelled with however much arm strength there is on his cousin sister’s arm, hits him hard between his eyebrows with a loud ‘thud’ before rolling away onto the grass.

“Oww!” The pain radiates from his forehead to around his eyes and temples. He definitely should have teleported away the moment his cousin prepares to hurl the ball at him. The intensity of the pain paralyzes him momentarily and all Kurt can do is to just crouch down with both his hands pressing on the definitely-starting-to-bruise spot.

Erik looks over to his daughter the moment he hears their little commotion. He sees Lorna fighting for a ball with Kurt who is twice her size before tossing the ball right at her cousin’s face.

“Lorna!” Erik raises his voice as he reaches Kurt’s sides with five quick strides, checking out his little nephew who has his eyes pressed closed, whimpering softly and rubbing at the bruise on his forehead with little blue hands.

Erik Lehnsherr is more than surprised. Lorna may not be the gentlest child but when it comes to playing, she always plays nice and has never fought with anyone over anything before. Likewise, he has never seen Kurt fighting with anyone before. This little nephew of his has always loved to play with Lorna, giving her hugs and doing tricks with his teleportation just to cheer her up.

“Are you okay, Kurt?” Erik asks, as he assesses the injury. It’s not bleeding but it has definitely start to purple around the edges.

“I’m okay, Uncle Erik,” a soft voice answers.

“Mom, dad, I didn’t fight with Lorna. I swear,” Kurt stands as Raven and Azazel approaches the group with all their supplies nicely packed. His parents share an amused laugh as Raven bends down to check on her son’s bruised forehead.

“You got your ass kicked by Lorna, buddy?” Azazel can’t seem to stifle the laughter bubbling from his chest. “Couldn’t teleport quick enough to be out of a woman’s wrath, huh?”

Raven glares at Azazel.

“I was packing ‘cause mom asked me to pack but Lorna didn’t wanna give me the ball,” Kurt clarifies softly as Raven continues to prod and checks her son.

“You’re okay, buddy. This little bruise won’t kill you.” Raven combs through the dark hair matted with sweat. “But it’ll certainly teach you to never pick a fight with a girl in the future.” Raven adds with a laugh, pulling her son closer to him. Azazel’s free hand continues to ruffles his son’s hair.

Erik does not find this amusing. His precious little daughter has just attacked a little boy and has continued to stand there silently without any signs of remorse. She usually says ‘sorry’ quickly whenever she knows she is in trouble. Charles has certainly taught her well enough to be more than what she is showing now. They are expecting a second child soon and this is Lorna’s first sign of aggression. Erik sighs and reminds himself to calm his emotions before he approaches this issue with his daughter.

“Lorna, do you have anything you want to say?” _Give the benefit of doubt, Erik. Give her the chance to communicate her feelings._ Charles’ words rings in his head as Erik kneels down to his daughter’s height.

Stubborn tears collect around similar colored irises but the smaller eyes blink them away angrily.

“Come now, liebling. Go pick up the ball and give it back to Kurt,” Erik coaxes, holding his daughter’s arm in his. “Let’s go say sorry together.”

“No!” Lorna shouts, pulling her arm away from Erik. “Hate Kurt!” She takes another few steps back, eyes blinking furiously but a few stray tears still slid down her slightly redden cheeks.

“Lorna…” Erik cajoles.

“NO!”

“Lorna Dane Lehnsherr!” Erik snaps.

**_“Don’t want papa! I hate papa! Hate papa!”_ **

All hell breaks loose as Lorna wails loudly, stomping her feet on the ground. Fat tears roll down her cheeks as the dam holding them in breaks rapidly.

Erik can’t decide what hurts more: his baby daughter crying heartbreakingly in front of him or his baby daughter saying that she hates him. He stands there stunned, silent, as his daughter continues her tantrum.

“Alright honey, that’s enough,” Raven swoops in and picks up Lorna in her arms swiftly. Lorna settles in her aunt’s arms without resistance but the crying continues.

“You can say sorry to Kurt next time we play together, alright?” Raven comforts, patting through those green locks. Lorna’s pigtails have mostly come loose after spending a whole afternoon running around the park.

Lorna doesn’t say anything but she reaches for Erik as Raven passes her to her father. Erik doesn’t say anything, doesn’t know what to say as he adjusts the new weight in his arms, feeling warm moisture seeping through his shirt.

_What would Charles do?_

“I’m not a telepath but I can tell you that Charles would have handled it the same way as you did too, Erik.” Raven says with her arms crossed, looking at her brother-in-law. “Perhaps even worse than you.” She pats Lorna’s small back, trying to calm the cries. “He might sit her down and start telling her why she needs to respect her parents and stuff about Confucianism and blah blah blah,” she jokes.

It works. Lorna’s cries slows to a hiccup and a soft whimper as she hides her face in the crook of her father’s neck. Erik stays silent as Lorna slowly cries herself to sleep in his arms, rocking her gently.

“Don’t worry about it, Erik,” it doesn’t take a telepath to read his mind. “She’s just cranky because she’s tired and have been running around all day,” Raven taps Erik lightly on the shoulder. “Probably going cray because she missed her nap too.”

“Thanks, Raven.” Erik replies softly, careful not to disturb the soft breathing sound in his arms.

“You’ll get used to the kids going crazy around you with the second one coming soon,” Raven smiles. “Gotta go before they teleport home without me. Let me know if you need anything,” she adds before walking towards Azazel and Kurt who have been silently waiting for her at the edge of the park.

Erik goes home, cleans and feeds Lorna and everything seems to have gone back to normal. Lorna wakes up from her short nap and timidly comes to pull on Erik’s shirt, whispering a soft “Sorry papa” before hiding her face in his chest. Charles comes home for dinner after that and they settle back into their routine of bedtime stories, a bottle of milk, and a goodnight kiss on her small forehead.

Charles doesn’t ask.

He sees the day’s event unfold from Raven and skims through Lorna’s thoughts to know she feels bad about it. If anything, Charles is proud of how Erik has handled the tantrum today. His husband might look all stoic and aggressive on the outside but he knows Erik will never hurt their children physically.

Erik has a heart; a soft heart that could be hurt deeply by words of their three-year-old daughter.

“You are bound to mess up, Erik.” Charles replies after a long delay. “I will mess up. We will mess up.” He explains as Erik frowns at his answers.

“We are new to this. Nobody is ready for parenting. We’ll just have to learn along the way together, love.” Erik returns the kiss when Charles seals their lips together.

“You are terrible in counseling, Charles.”

“I am also terrible in cooking, just so you know.” Charles smirks. “Now let’s see what this post of yours say about raising a Jewish genius kid.”

Charles reaches for Erik’s tablet and begin to scroll through the list of rules written on it, his own papers forgotten on top of the swell of his belly. Erik sighs lovingly at his husband.

“Hmm… I like this one: _kol haschalot kashot_.” He tries out the phrase.  The words roll out with a strange British accent from Charles’ tongue. Still, he smiles knowing that said lesson is about to come to them soon: he senses an additional active mind in the household a couple of minutes ago.

“Oh, the one about independence? This phrase means…”

A soft knock interrupts Erik.

“Papa? Daddy?” A small head of green peaks through the door, a little shark plush toy in hand.

“Liebling, what’s wrong?” Erik is out of the bed in a second, pulling his arm free from Charles, coming to the door and scooping their daughter up in one swift moment.

“Can’t sleep, papa,” Lorna rests her small head on her father’s broad shoulders. “Can we sleep together?” she asks softly.

Erik eyes Charles suspiciously. _You knew she was awake._ It is not a question.

 _Yes._ Charles smiles sheepishly, rearranging himself on the bed to make space for their new occupant. He is not going to get anymore reading done tonight for sure. _I also knew she remembers what she said in the afternoon and she feels bad about it, love._

“Come,” Erik carries Lorna to their bed and plants her in between them once he receives Charles’ silent approval, “we’ll sleep together tonight.”

Lorna settles in between them easily, snuggling her shark plushy tightly to herself after kissing Charles goodnight. Erik settles on his side of the bed after reminding Charles to put his glasses on the end table instead of his belly. _Our baby is not your table, Charles._

Erik flicks the lights off and plunge their room into darkness after everyone bid their usual goodnights to each other. He admits: Lorna’s words sting and hurt more than any physical pain he has ever experienced.

“Papa?” A soft voice whispers.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry, papa. I love you.” A small head shifts and rests on his chest

“I love you too, liebling.”

Erik’s heart warms and swells at those simple words. He is definitely projecting his emotions very loudly now. Charles nudges him back with a mental equivalent of an embrace.

_Charles?_

_Hmm?_

_Kol haschalot kashot… it means: ‘all beginnings are difficult’._

_I know, love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Came across the '10 Parental Rules Which Turn Jewish Kids Into Geniuses' on the internet and an hour later, this chapter types itself. Let me know if there's any grammatical mistakes! Hope you'll love it! :)


	5. Opposites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a new academic year begins and the first lesson involves teaching your children how to handle confrontations.

There are two types of people in this world: one who chooses the fist, and the other who chooses words. Erik Lehnsherr is not a man of many words but his responses towards conflict have since toned down from physical forces to shooting non-verbal murderous glares. Charles takes credit for the transformation.

“I’m a good influence, love.” The telepath smiles.

Erik huffs. He wants to disagree, but he finds that his life is easier without the possibility of being cuffed with assault charges (and that shooting murderous daggers with his eyes is equally intimidating). Erik doesn’t know much about social skills and being civil to every other stranger that they happen to meet at the corner store but he knows the basis of magnetism: opposite attracts. He loves Charles’ ways in managing conflict; he loves how he can talk for hours in convincing others to join his cause just as how Charles loves Erik’s way of tightening other people’s jewelry around their throats when they try to hit on Charles (“I love you but that’s enough, Erik.”).

And so they have both come to a silent agreement of each other’s way of managing conflict. Life has been going pretty good even after they have children. Lorna, though active and loud, is always polite and nice when she plays and socialize with other children; David, that sweet little boy of theirs, doesn’t speak up much and tends to blend into the background, avoiding possible conflict altogether.

Which is why the telepath’s heart drops when he receives a call from the teacher.

It is a terrible way to start the new academic year and an even horrible way to start a Monday when he picks up a surge of emotion from both his children across the city followed by phone that starts with “Professor Xavier, Lorna and David-“. Charles hopes he could teleport more than he could read minds as he rushes to his children’s preschool. He sends mental notes to Moira to have her cover his introductory classes and rushes to his car. Charles needs his husband.

_Erik?! I got a call from Miss Pryde._

_I’m teleporting to the school now, Charles. Drive safe. Meet you there._

Charles releases the breath that he has been subconsciously holding. Yes, Azazel can teleport Erik to the school much faster than he could drive. Erik is there with the children; their papa is there, they will be fine.

It is another 15 minutes (and a few red lights) when Charles pops straight into the principal’s office after skimming through the minds of the occupants in the building. Children with loud and heighten emotions fill the area and Charles picks up his children’s thoughts within a heartbeat, assessing their mental state. He expects to sense a hard-headed, angry Lorna and a frightened David.

It isn’t.

Lorna is terrified; fury pulses in David’s mind.

Charles is never so wrong before in his life.

“Professor Xavier, thank you for joining us,” Miss Pryde takes his hand in hers when he comes into the office and sits down. Erik sits on the long couch across the preschool’s principle with two koala-bears-like-children plastered on his sides.

Charles sees green eyes which are red-rimmed from an obvious bouts of crying as his daughter cuddles with Erik. His husband’s brows knit together as he continue to hold onto both their children in his lap, a slight mental press of acknowledgement and a light pecker of kiss lands in Charles’ mind.

“Hello, my darlings,” Charles smiles lightly as he makes a beeline to his seated husband and children, planting kisses on those two small heads. The only visible injury is a faint scratch on David’s cheek and Lorna’s tousled hair which have been pulled out of the beautiful braid Erik tied for her earlier this morning.

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” Lorna immediately apologizes, as she reaches for Charles. Her distress leaks openly into Charles; she doesn’t want to make her parents sad or disappointed in her behavior.

And then there’s David.

David looks directly into Charles’ similar blue eyes without saying anything, head still cushion on Erik’s chest. His shade of blue eyes are cold and hard.

He is not terrified.

He is not sorry.

“There’s been a little trouble in the school today, Professor Xavier,” the principal starts. “I have already filled Mr. Lehnsherr in on what happened. Perhaps it’ll be more convenient for you if you would love to just skim through our thoughts and get an account of what happened?” She offers with a smile.

“Thank you, Miss Pryde,” Charles tries to smile, slowing his heart rate and cocooning Lorna lightly in his arms, comforting her. The telepath takes the offered permission and proceeds to skim through the memories within seconds.

“They-“Charles’ eyes widen as he looks to Erik for confirmation.

 Erik sighs and confirms silently.

“Lorna, my darling, you are not in trouble,” Charles calls softly. “Daddy just need to talk to Miss Pryde about something with papa, alright?” This is not a conversation he is ready to have with his children within earshot.

“Could you be a darling and go play with David over there?” Erik sets David on the floor and passes the little boy’s hand into his daughter’s. “Papa and daddy will be right over, and we’ll go home and have ice-cream, alright?” Charles combs stray strands of green out of her eyes.

“Ice-cream?” Lorna asks, her voice soft.

“Yes, liebling. We’ll have ice-cream before dinner today.” Erik offers.

Lorna nods and walks away from the adults with her brother’s hand in hers easily. She is especially pliant and good after bouts of crying.

“Well, as both of you have already know,” Miss Pryde adds, “we have already summoned the parents of those children involved and have talked to them extensively regarding this matter.”

“The damage to the appliances and injuries…” Charles starts.

“It’s fine, Professor Xavier,” Kitty smiles intercepts. “The other children are all fine. The school’s insurance will cover for it. If any, I would like to apologize for letting things go out of hand at the first place.”

The Lehnsherr kids have been injured. Katherine Pryde wants nothing more but to phase out of the wraths of two of the most powerful mutants ever known. “I am very sorry that things happened the way it did and we promise that we’ll try out very best to prevent it from ever happening again.” She delivers the standard explanation.

Charles sighs.

“I understand, Miss Pryde,” Charles senses the regret from a fellow educator. He knows how stressful the job could be especially if your wards are below the age of six and a variant of mutant abilities.

“It is best if both of them could stay at home for one more day tomorrow,” she offers. “I believe they are both traumatized after today’s event.”

Charles doesn’t remember much after he smiles and nods his usual polite responses back to the principal. Erik packs the children up and they settle back into the routine of bathing and feeding the children. Before they knew it, Lorna and David are both down in their rooms for an afternoon nap after their lunches of ice-cream and sandwiches.

The telepath prepares some much-needed hot tea in the kitchen silently as he replays the events experienced by his children. Charles and Erik know the first day of school can always be stressful and traumatizing to young children. Both of them spent months introducing the concept of going-to-a-school-is-fun to David shortly after he turns three and Lorna is more than elated to have her younger brother at the same school compound as she is even though her preschool is technically in another school building.

Charles chooses to send David to that playschool so Lorna could spend her playtime and lunchtime with him. He wants his children to at least feel safer knowing that their sibling is just right across the building, sharing the same school compound.

He thought things would go well.

Technically, things went really well until some of the children chose to pick on David.

“This is going to be one hell of a dinner story to tell when they grow up, Charles!” Raven laughs from across the couch, sipping the offered tea. She came straight over after she heard what happened and offered to bring Kurt over after his school ends for a playdate to normalize the rest of the day.

Charles sighs audibly and brings the cup to his lips. He needs more tea to calm his nerves.

“I mean, seriously, Erik,” Raven smiles, “I bet you’re at least damn proud of your girl, right? She is barely six and she managed to EMP all the electronics in the school and sent out such strong magnetic pulse without any visible drain!” Raven cannot hide the pride she has for her niece. Given her parents, Raven is not a tad bit surprised by Lorna’s abilities.

“She was in distress,” Charles explains. “Extreme emotions boosts her powers so abruptly she probably didn’t…” he stops midsentence when he senses stirring minds in his children’s room.

Lorna and David are awake.

“They are awake,” Charles stands up and sets his cup down on the table, “I better go check on them.”

“Go, both of you,” Raven stretches from her seat and stands up. “I’m gonna go pick Kurt up from school and bring him over for dinner.”

"Alright, we'll see you later, Raven." Charles replies.

“Charles…” Raven stops in her track.

“Hmm?”

“There is nothing wrong in protecting a sibling and a loved one. I know you’d do the same for me. You already did, and will continue doing so in the future.” She smiles and closes the door behind her.

Erik pulls Charles into a quick embrace and plants a kiss on those messy locks. _Your baby sister is not so ‘baby’ anymore, Charles._

 _I know, Erik. When did she grow up?_  Charles relaxes into his husband’s hug before pulling away and making their way towards the children’s bedroom.

They open the door to their children snuggling on one of the beds and the sight of David patting Lorna lightly on her head. The older sibling seems to be crying before they entered but there are no signs of tears now.

“Papa... Daddy…” Lorna hiccups slightly as she sees her parents enter.

“Oh darling, what’s wrong?” Charles picks Lorna up from the bed and sits her on his lap. “Did you have a bad dream?” He smiles at David’s sweet gesture of trying to comfort his sister.

“Uh-huh, I dreamed that they hit David and I spoiled all the things in school again and I woke up and David was here patting my head and David said it’s okay and he’ll protect me…” she rambles along. “I’m sorry I got mad and spoiled the things at school, daddy.”

Erik smiles and sits their youngest son in his lap as well.

“It was very good that both you and David protected each other at school, darling.” Charles comforts. “We’re not angry, Lorna.” He plants a kiss on her tear-streaked cheeks, “Papa and daddy are very proud of both of you.”

“They say David is weird because he doesn’t speak and then they push him and then they shouted at him,” Lorna continues softly. “Daddy always say we shouldn’t push others and play rough.”

Charles smiles at his firstborn and brushes green locks out of her eyes. They both know David doesn’t speak much; he feels and read others’ thoughts easily although he doesn’t frequently project his thoughts just yet. Verbal communication is not his preferred mode and apparently, other children at school isn’t happy with David’s choice.

It started out with just a slight push and a couple of loud words:

“Why don’t you speak, David?” some of the children quipped.

“Are you dumb?” the others added.

“Can you shout if you’re hurt?” a couple more kids started to push him around.

And throughout the entire scene, David said nothing in reply as he looked down at his shoes quietly until Lorna came running over during her break time.

She stood quickly between David and the other children picking on him.

“Stop pushing my brother!” Unlike the beginner telepath, Lorna doesn’t flinch away from conflict. Charles always joke that Lorna is just the female version of Erik, every little bit of her papa.

“Your brother is a weirdo! He is dumb!” some of the children jested.

“He is not! He is smarter than all of you!” Lorna retorts loudly.

It was all just a banter of words until one of the children pushed David slightly harder than he meant to and David fell onto the floor. “Stop it!” Lorna scolded as she quickly picked her brother up. She pulled him up in one swift motion and green eyes widen when she saw a bloodied scratch on his cheek. David followed his sister’s stare and touched his cheek to confirm the injury; he must have caught the edge of the display board when he was pushed.

The scratch didn’t hurt him that much.

But it hurt Lorna deeply.

Lorna hugged her brother hard and tight. She didn’t know what happened; she didn’t know what she did. The next thing she knew was that she spoiled the lights and computers and televisions and broke all the windows and glasses around her. David’s blue eyes stared at her in awe.

“It’s okay, liebling. Papa will practice with you and you’ll have better control next time, okay?” Erik explains softly. A stronger electromagnetic pulse would have been dangerous; she could have harmed and injured others but she didn’t. Erik always thought that Lorna’s power is going to more dangerous than David’s at the earlier stages; hers is more offensive than telepathy.

Erik is wrong.

“Ewww! Lorna is a freak! She broke the lights!” The other children changed their target to the older sibling after the outbursts.

“Lorna is a freak!” others started chanting.

“No I’m not…” Daddy said people say nasty things when they are afraid, Lorna remembers.

“I’m not…” Her voice wavered. Lorna was just as terrified as they were; she has never broke anything before. One of the kids started pushing her.

Lorna’s braid came loose and David snapped.

_STOP IT!_

And the next thing both Lehnsherr siblings knew was that there was no sound. It was quiet. The kids who were bullying them fell motionless on the floor. The short teasing ended with Lorna’s piercing scream and David’s white hot fury.

Charles re-experienced the memory again in his mind as he shares it mentally with Erik.

“I’m sorry, daddy. I’m sorry, papa.” Lorna pulls her parents back from their reverie as she apologizes over and over again. She knows she shouldn’t break things and hurt other people. “I can’t help it, I’m sorry.”

Erik and Charles’ hearts break at that sentence.

“It’s okay, my love,” Charles comforts. “We’ll learn together. Papa and daddy and David, we’ll all learn together.”

Lorna controls magnetic fields like Erik. She moves and bends and manipulate tangible things. She may inflict physical injuries. David is the exact opposite. He manipulates imperceptible things; he controls minds. He wields one of the deadliest power known in the world and he can inflict invisible and irreversible injuries.

As of today, in his short three years of living, he willed five other children into unconsciousness today; he controlled them and asked them to stop everything, stop **breathing**. And he has no regrets in doing what he did.

“I protect Lorna forever,” David says with a resolve surpassing a typical three-year-old’s capacity. “Lorna don’t be scared,” smaller hands pats Lorna’s arms repeatedly, “I protect you.”

Erik’s heart aches. The world is large and scary for their children. There will always be bullies in schools, at work, and in the society; people who will treat other people and minorities differently. Who will protect them when Charles and Erik are gone? If they were hit, would it be okay for them to hit back? Or should they just sit and wait and hope that the authorities, whoever they are, would help them in due time? Would it be too late by then?

_This is a complicated question I do not think I have the capacity to answer you right now, Erik._

They coax both kids back to their nap after that. It will take a few more days, perhaps even more time, for Charles to sit David down and explain the consequences of his powers to him. David needs to be taught to wield his abilities before he accidentally does something that he will regret forever.

“You know? David looks just like you with his blue eyes, Charles. But the way he handles conflicts? Oh, he is every bit of me.” Erik smirks when they settle back to the couch with the tea that has grown cold.

“Aren’t they just opposites of one and another, love?” Charles agrees. Lorna is always loud with her words and actions, but come conflict, she hesitates to confront physically and behaves very much like Charles. David, on the other hand, is usually soft-spoken and polite but when he attacks, he lashes with all his might.

Just like Erik.

_Will they be safe in this world?_

Charles picks up Erik’s echoing thoughts. He shares the same sentiment as his husband and he wants the same thing for their children:

A world safe and happy for their children, for the **different and opposites** to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, September! A brand new academic year means many 'first times' for both parents and kids. Our world is currently brimming with conflicts of people treating those who are 'different' from them 'differently' and I wish at least, in the fictional world, children will be able to grow up safely without discrimination.
> 
> To more love and less conflict among us all for we are opposites of the same halves :)
> 
> PS: Do leave me a comment should you find any grammatical/fluency errors. Will have them fixed! Hope you love this little chapter!


End file.
